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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339022">Irrationality (On Either Side.)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineisa/pseuds/catherineisa'>catherineisa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Blacklist (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bullets wounds, Cauterization, Enemies to lovers /kind of, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Injury, M/M, Multi, Red wears Ressler down with his charm (If I write another part.), Subtextual intricacies, familiarity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:13:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,930</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineisa/pseuds/catherineisa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Please. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me here.” He lets out a loud crackling scream. More birds flee.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aram Mojtabai &amp; Donald Ressler, Aram Mojtabai/Donald Ressler, Raymond Reddington &amp; Donald Ressler, Raymond Reddington/Donald Ressler, either pairing is just subtext, have fun with it - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Irrationality (On Either Side.)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He can feel the blood trickling into his eyes. He’s laying on his side with both arms over his head one slightly bent, there’s too much blood in his eyes for him to see anything but he can feel the vibration of the steps in the floor, hear it over his own ragged breathing.  The man steps over him and turns him over onto his back. The blurry figure of the older man is enough to make him hiss, possibly added into the fact that a bullet skimmed his skull. The anger at being double crossed is cut through by the pain of being shot.</p><p> </p><p>“Dasha. We must be going now. They’re on their way.” He pulls on Ressler’s shoulder and Ressler cries out in choked anguish. Reddington pulls a knife from his belt and a lighter from his pocket. He rotates the lighter under the knife, for a minute Ressler doesn’t connect the dots and when he finally does Reddington has wrenched him up into a sitting position and popped the buttons off his shirt. He’s driven to scream this time as the burning knife cauterizes his wound. Ressler inhales deeply when he thinks it’s over but Reddington pulls him closer and cuts his shirt, pressing the still scalding knife against the exit wound. Ressler lets out a dry scream and it echoes off the walls causing birds to scatter. Reddington reaches up to hold his mouth shut.</p><p> </p><p>Мы не можем допустить бессмысленных убийств, не так ли?</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">We can’t have senseless killings. Can we?</span> </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  </em>
</p><p>There’s a moment of silence and Dasha is stone-faced as Reddington puts him back on the ground, on his opposite side. He feels Reddington palm his phone, but he can’t see what he’s doing. A moment later there’s a clatter. Reddington’s flip is in his hand. He doesn’t make the connection to what it could mean.                                                                                                                                                                                        He can’t help but stare as the two leave the room. The woman, Dasha, is several steps behind Reddington and she turns slightly as they’re leaving and gives him a truly sinister smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Please. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me here.” He lets out a loud crackling scream. More birds flee.</p><p> </p><p>“какой позор”</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">What a shame! /What a disgrace!</span> </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  </em>
</p><p>Ressler lets the words sink into his bones as he shuts his eyes.</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Maybe she’s right.</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know how long passes before he hears the sirens, but it feels like a time without end, nausea passes over him in waves.</p><p>He can feel himself being put onto the stretcher and strapped in. His eyes flutter and he can see the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles until the doors shut and he’s taken away.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p>He doesn’t stay in the hospital long and soon becomes an outpatient. His anger has faded in disappointment, mostly at himself for believing that Reddington could change. That he’d ever be on any side other than his own. Liz tried to convince him to stay to heal but he’d had his fill of hospitals for the rest of his life. <strike>However long that’ll be.</strike>  He made his way back to the post office without taking the sling off but eventually it got too itchy and he resigns to the urge. He takes it off, wincing heavily.</p><p>A man he only vaguely recognizes from around the office comes up to him, hand outstretched as if to shake. Ressler gestures lamely in the direction of his shoulder and tilts his head slightly to signal that he can’t.</p><p>“Oh. Hmm. I’m Aram. Mojtabai. Agent Aram Mojtabai. I was just hired here a week ago, I’ll be working with you for the foreseeable future.” He’s overly enthusiastic and that would normally annoy Donald but there’s something disarming about it coming from this man. Ressler can tell that the man had probably seen just as much shit as he had himself, but a major difference is he hasn’t let himself become callused by it.</p><p>“Donald Ressler.” He exhales closely, in a controlled manner but Aram doesn’t seem to notice that anything might be wrong, or at least he doesn’t mention or indicate that he knows.</p><p>“Have you met the rest of the team?” He sets himself gingerly in the chair closest.</p><p>“Yes. Well some of them. I haven’t met Cooper. Not officially.”  Ressler nods, biting back a hiss as it sends shockwaves into his shoulder. The dressing for the cauterization is itchy and he looks quickly at his watch.  Time to change the dressing. Well, way past time to change his dressing.</p><p>He excuses himself from the conversation and makes his way towards the bathroom off the hallway left of the stairs to Coopers office. He pulls off the winter coat and peels his jacket off, gasping.</p><p>He nearly vomits in the sink at the pain and can’t help but grip the faux white marble counter ledge. He grabs the coat and part of it falls into one of the sinks and the wooly material, gets wet. He grimaces as he pulls it out and swipes at it before giving up completely, he pulls the Isopropyl Alcohol and Petroleum Jelly out of his coat along with gauze and medical tape, among other things.</p><p>He pulls the bandage off wincing as the tape peels from his skin. He breathes rhythmically as he dabs at the pus in the wound. The swelling and blistering look worse than it feels, but still hurts like hell.</p><p>He goes to pour the alcohol on the wound and heaves a breath before resting the bottle on his hip, back pressed against the counter and part of the wall. He looks to the ceiling hoping that somehow, it’ll give him the courage to do what needs to be done. It doesn’t.</p><p> </p><p>The bathroom door swings open and Agent Mojtabai stops short just inside the door.  He looks like a deer-in-headlights as he stares blankly at Ressler, who’s still leaning on the counter. He doesn’t bother looking up. He holds his wrist tight against his stomach with the hope of restricting his movement.</p><p>“Um. Do you need any help?” Ressler tilts his head in the general direction of the other man, screwing his eyes shut until he sees spots.</p><p>“Yes. Please. Thank you.” His words are jumbled, and his vision is blurry.</p><p>“What do I do?” He approaches slowly, making a beeline for the sink first. He washes his hands carefully before even coming close to him.</p><p>“Dab the fluid off of the.” He falters for lack of better words. “Burn. The pus. Gently dab it off, don’t wipe.” Aram gets through the first step and Donald must bite his lip to keep from whimpering. “Put the alcohol on it.”  Aram flinches for a second before speaking.</p><p> “No. Whoa no.” Ressler opens his eyes, confused.</p><p> “I mean. For good reason, I swear. Uh. The alcohol, and peroxide, they slow the healing process, it’ll kill the germs but also the skin cells around the burn for something major like this. Well with any burn actually. It also dries the skin causing some cracking around the edges.”</p><p>Ressler nods, glad he didn’t have the courage earlier.</p><p>“Do you have any ah got it. You shouldn’t use cotton balls either, they stick to it and you’re more likely to get infected. Do you have any meds? Injury like this?” He grabs the gauze pad unwraps it and covers a portion about the size of the would in Petroleum Jelly, using the medical tape to secure it.</p><p>Ressler makes an awful noise. “I had a problem a couple years ago. I don’t trust myself.”</p><p>Aram nods. “Stay hydrated then. Minimize movement but don’t become stiff.” Ressler nods gratefully.</p><p> He grabs several more gauze pads and repeats the process on his back.</p><p>“Can I ask what happened?” He can see Aram in the mirror and his face is calm, he’s focused fully on the task at hand.</p><p>“Our informant shot me and ran off with a suspect.”</p><p>“Our informant?”  Ressler looks at him and his brow is crinkled in confusion.</p><p>“Have you been briefed yet?”  Aram smiles awkwardly.</p><p>“No. I transferred last week but I start today. They said that because of my previous employment that I could be trusted, that whatever this is is classified out the wazoo.” Ressler just nods.</p><p>Soon the briefing is over and Ressler thanks him for the help.</p><p>“You’re welcome. Now I really really have to pee.”</p><p>Ressler lets out a clumsy laugh before opening the door and leaving.</p><p>Liz is sorting papers by importance and Ressler takes a seat close to her. Hoping to be distracted by work, or a case of some sorts. She doesn’t seem to notice this though.</p><p>“You feeling any better?” Her tone is even but her face is concerned. She stops shuffling the papers.</p><p>“Better. Still in pain.”</p><p>“You should’ve let them hold onto you for the day at least. Get some medication for the pain.” He nearly chokes but plays it off as a cough. “They make me drowsy, don’t like it.” She doesn’t notice the lie but he’s glad that she drops the topic nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <sub>---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</sub> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>Aram is finally briefed by Cooper and the operation and base is fully explained. The papers are resorted, and the dry erase board is put up with the new case files. Money launderer, penchant for young blondes. New drug habit. The files only take up half the board.</p><p>Reddington hasn’t resurfaced yet and Ressler can’t help but wonder what he’s up to. It’s never anything good, and most of the time there’s loads of paperwork after. He doesn’t have to wait much longer though as Reddington breezes in with a well-tailored vest and suit jacket over his arm, bodyguard in tow.</p><p>His face is bruised, bottom lip busted. There’s a smattering of color all along his cheekbones and above his eyebrow on the right side of his face. The purple and green bruises make him look more frail, gaunt.</p><p>Ressler can’t kill the curiosity that bubbles up in him, and almost ends up asking the man what happened to him. Luckily someone else asks for him. Elizabeth doesn’t seem so concerned about <em>this </em>injury though. Her tone is harsh.</p><p>“What the hell happened to you?”</p><p>Reddington purses his lips. He doesn’t answer, not right away. “I was ambushed. Thank you for your concerns Lizzie.”</p><p>Liz stands up straighter before shooting back. “Not concerned, just wondering if Karma caught up with you.” Her tone is just as cutting. His is tired.</p><p>Ressler can’t help but chuckle. Aram looks alarmed. </p><p>“I very well could have saved agent Ressler’s life in that warehouse. Dasha wanted to kill him when she found out he was an agent. I stopped her.”</p><p>“She put a bullet in my shoulder. Which I highly doubt the necessity of cauterization.”</p><p>Reddington makes a quizzical noise. “If it weren’t for that cauterization, you would’ve bled out. You were lying there for thirty-seven minutes.”</p><p>“Awfully specific.” Elizabeth’s skepticism is wholly apparent.</p><p>“Hmm Let’s check then shall we? Phone.” He holds his own phone out. “Call log.” He clicks an inordinate number of times before landing on what he needs. “Thirty-seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds.”</p><p> </p><p>Ressler pulls out his own phone and checks his history. Bastard’s right it turns out, the exact increment.</p><p>“Bet you’re glad you have Unlimited huh?” Ressler’s head pops up in surprise. “How do you…?”</p><p>“Hmm, I know almost everything about your lives. I do love being right. Oh and it cuts down on surprises later too.”</p><p> </p><p>Donald can’t help but admit that the man is good. Everyone slips up though. Eventually.</p>
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